Chapter 11: The Knock

Lydia's POV

I stood in the corridor in my nightgown with my hand on his door, and I knocked before I could change my mind.

"Come in," said Henry.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed in his shirt with the lamp lit.

He had not been reading.

He looked at me for a long moment, and then he stood, and he did not come closer.

"Rule three," he said quietly. "I do not touch you unless you ask."

"I know the rule," I said. "I was there when you made it."

I shut the door behind me and leaned against it.

My heart was going very hard.

"I have spent a whole day as your wife, and you have not once looked at me for longer than it takes to nod," I said.

"I looked," he said.

"I know you did. That is why I am here."

I crossed the floor.

I stopped in front of him, close enough to feel the heat of him through the linen.

"I am asking," I said.

He did not smile.

His hand came up and cupped the side of my face, and it was very careful and not at all steady.

"Lydia."

"Do not make me ask twice."

He kissed me.

It was slow for a moment, and then it was not.

His mouth opened mine, and I dragged my hands up into his hair and he made a low rough sound against my lips.

He walked me backward until the bedpost was against my spine.

I had been married for four years, and no one had ever kissed me like that.

I had not known a kiss could have so much hunger in it.

His hands found the ribbon at my throat and pulled it loose.

The nightgown slid off my shoulders and caught at my hips, and he stopped and looked.

The lamp was behind him, and his eyes were nearly black.

"Tell me what you want," he said, hoarse.

"You."

"Tell me where."

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